The witch just laughed, a sound that was both beautiful and incredibly cruel. "Marry me? Look at your height."
The word echoed in SynchroNoice's mind. Height. It was a trigger, a key that unlocked a lifetime of trauma. He remembered the other children in his village, their taunts and jeers. He remembered the constant, casual cruelty of a world that was not built for someone his size. The pink, heart-shaped pupils in his eyes shattered, replaced by a burning, furious rage. A single, thick vein throbbed on his forehead. The dopey, lovesick grin on his face twisted into a snarl of pure, unadulterated fury.
A shimmering, pink aura, identical to the witch's own magic, erupted around his hand. The air crackled, and the aura coalesced, forming a perfect, spectral copy of the witch's gnarled wand. He aimed it at her and, with a guttural scream, remade her own spell. A massive, pulsating pink heart shot out, flying directly at her.
